Lost Touch
by malachite157
Summary: There's a storm brewing and every bot is preparing for it in his or her own way. Meanwhile, Myst is faced with two choices, and either one could cost her her life. Sixth in the Losing Face series.
1. Chapter 1

**Lost Touch**

**By:** Sapphire (aka Malachite157)

Part One

_I can see inside you, the sickness is rising  
Don't try to deny what you feel  
(Will you give in to me?)  
It seems that all that was good has died  
And is decaying in me _

It seems you're having some trouble  
In dealing with these changes  
Living with these changes (oh no)  
The world is a scary place  
Now that you've woken up the demon in me

- Down with the Sickness, Disturbed

_**Writer's Note:** I'm not certain about Transformer sizes; I'm saying that now so I don't get flamed for distorting their sizes horribly (which I'd be doing unwittingly, anyway). In my mind, Rampage is eighteen feet tall in robot mode, at full height. Yes, a very big crab. Second note: for those of you unfamiliar with military terms, a SAM is a surface-to-air missile. That's about it. Hope you enjoy the fic!_

* * *

Inferno staggered into the Predacon base and made his way to the CR tank. He all but threw himself against the lever that would lower the platform into the repair liquid and hopped onto it. Then he went straight back into stasis. 

He didn't need to stay in the tank for twelve hours. He'd suffered a nasty blow and been shot several times by strong weaponry, but his damage could have been repaired in four hours. Inferno chose to stay in the warm, calming blanket of repair-nanites and energon-liquid for therapeutic reasons. He was distraught and he needed time to rest and unwind before he came to any decisions about what to do. The Royalty was dead and he simply couldn't deal with that just yet.

During that time, another bot had wandered through the Predacon base. Quickstrike found himself without a purpose and nervous to the point he thought it would drive him insane. He was alone now. His leader had been killed, Waspinator was missing and Inferno was out cold in the CR tank. Tarantulas was his own agent, Blackarachnia had defected weeks ago and he...

...he was the only available victim for Rampage, unless one of the Maximals did the unthinkable and left the safety of the Ark, alone.

Oh, he'd never been partial to Megatron, or anyone for that matter. But he had felt secure being in a faction that pertained to his tastes and which had given him a place to call his own. There were rules, routines and safety nets in place to more-or-less protect the individual, so long as he followed said rules and routines. It was all held together by one bot, and that bot was dead.

The base seemed hollow and desolate now. The only activity came from the CR tank that contained Inferno and the gentle whir of the computers on standby. Quickstrike had activated just one screen to keep an eye out for approaching signatures. He had the autoguns on alert and the computer was programmed to blare loudly when any bot came within a ten mile radius of the Darkside. Quickstrike, to say the least, was paranoid.

He had watched Rampage savage the great Megatron. He'd witnessed the brutal murder of a fellow Transformer. Quickstrike was not a bot of high morals and he derived great pleasure out of fighting an enemy...but the sheer _viciousness_ in Rampage's killing struck terror into the very core of him. That kind of fighting, that kind of complete callousness was something Quickstrike was unfamiliar with, and did he want to be on the receiving end of it.

What was he to do? Sit here and hope that Rampage never came back? That would be hoping for too much. The psychopath was on the loose now with free rein to go and do what he pleased. And killing bots was what pleased Rampage. That, and the crab would most likely want to come back and fetch a few bits and pieces from his quarters. Unless of course he fancied having the whole base to himself, in which case Quickstrike was helpless to stop him. Without that weapon, he stood no chance. Rampage could easily take on the autoguns, break through the defenses and come in here and clean the place out.

The fuzor sighed anxiously and stared at the monitors. There was no activity but then...Rampage did have the talent of hiding from the scanners.

"What's taking blender butt so long?" he wondered out loud. "His danged repair cycle ended hours ago!"

Quickstrike pondered the possibility of Inferno having committed suicide in there, then decided the ant wouldn't give in so easily. Most probably he was resting before going on a revenge binge to avenge Megatron. It would be a futile attempt but it was the right thing for a loyal servant of 'the queen' to do. It wasn't like Inferno had any options of serving a new leader. He highly doubted Inferno would look to him to make things right. He was a lowly drone, after all.

"Much as I hate ta say it, ah think ah'm best off hiding with them Maxis." Quickstrike shuddered at the thought. He abhorred the notion of joining the Maximals, but at least they had a decent-sized team, and there was safety in numbers.

The problem was, he'd have to rely on the general open-heartedness of their leader to accept him into their ranks. Quickstrike knew Optimus Primal wasn't the slightest bit keen on him. Still, would he really deny him sanctuary and leave him outside to die at the hands of Rampage? Groveling and pleading for his life was not an idea Quickstrike warmed to, but it was his best option.

Problem was, he had to GET there, first.

The fuzor looked about himself nervously. The base was quiet and dark. Anything could be lurking in the shadows...

"Well I'm gonna plain lose mah marbles if I stay here," he decided and got up from his chair. He'd make the trek to the Maximal base on the off-chance they'd take pity on him. All he had to do between now and then was keep on the highest alert for Rampage. If he let his concentration slip for just one moment, he could very easily become the crab's next meal.

* * *

Rampage sat on a boulder in the thick of a forest. He was hunched over, absently chipping off what was left of Megatron's dried blood on his hands with his finger and thumb. Other than the small, repetitive movements of his hands, he was still, gaze resting on the ground. 

He remained this way for a few minutes, idly flaking off the thin layer of caked silver on his red metal. Then, suddenly, he stood and threw a punch into the nearest tree. It buckled, wood splintered off and went flying and the branches shook violently, sending down a small blizzard of leaves.

He waited for the shower of twigs and leaves to stop and all the while he panted, struggling to contain another violent outburst. Then he remembered he didn't have to do that anymore. He was free.

Rampage turned on the tree, punching it repeatedly. It only took five hacks with his arm before it fell over. It was a small tree by Transformer standards, barely taller than himself. It groaned, cracked and crashed to the floor, its leaves rustling in a chorus that lasted two seconds before the forest fell into silence once more. Only the alarmed voice of a bird and the fading scurrying of some creature could be heard.

He looked down at the broken tree at his feet and watched with detached interest as a snake emerged from the tangle of branches and slithered out and away from it. Gradually, he drew to his full height and looked around. The dull morning light filtered down and warded off the shadows of a restless night. It had been thirteen hours since he'd left the canyon overlooking the entrance to the Ark.

Killing Megatron had been a highlight in his stay on this planet, but it was over too quickly. He would have preferred to drag it out and savour the moment more completely, but he'd been pressed for time, what with the Maximals near by and an enraged Inferno harassing him. The ant he had left and he'd guessed Myst would attend to Waspinator, since she seemed to have some small soft spot for the bug.

She'd made it clear she wanted no more to do with him. It left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. After all he'd done for her, she had fled from their alliance as soon as the full truth was revealed. It shouldn't matter, he kept telling himself. It shouldn't _matter_. She had worn away at his patience to the point that now, if he saw her, he wasn't sure he could restrain himself from doing to her what he'd done to everyone on Omicron. Granted, he'd misled her, but she had been doing her own share of playing games. Their relationship had always been a cagey one. To act like she was the betrayed innocent in the situation was more than annoying. She knew she was playing with fire - she was an empath, she had always known. Myst was deceitful and selfish, but he didn't dislike her now for those reasons. He disliked her indecisiveness. She was never sure of what she wanted. To be fair, neither was he, but he didn't throw accusations and change his mind on whims like she did. Rampage decided that he wasn't keen on killing her, he'd just had enough of her messing him around.

The thought of her made him irritable, so he changed his focus to his next plan of action. Now that he was free, the first thing he wanted to do was vent his frustrations to...or rather on Tarantulas. Rampage had mulled over a number of creative ways to kill the spider, when a plan had suddenly come to him.

He had both halves of his spark now, but he needed them merged together as one for him to be safe and to feel complete again. There were only two bots on this planet capable of doing that. He knew Rhinox wouldn't do it no matter what he threatened. Tarantulas, however, was very much a bot of self-preservation and so an agreement could be made, under Rampage's terms, of course. He had already formed such terms in his mind and he planned to carry them out as soon as possible. He just needed to know where the spider was.

He hadn't the foggiest idea where the scientist hid and he had killed the only bot who might know something. He was slightly miffed that he hadn't thought that one through.

Rampage was distracted from his reverie by the distinct scent of fear in the air. He froze and listened. Whoever it was, he was a fair distance away as no sound could be heard, but his fear was radiating through the jungle.

"Inferno's too much of an idiot to fear me, so this has to be one of only two bots that would risk wandering alone while there's a killer in the woods."

As Rampage picked his way through the trees as stealthily as he could manage, he silently hoped it was Tarantulas he'd encounter. He doubted he'd be so lucky - it was probably Quickstrike making a run for it. The fuzor was trying to get to someplace safe, most likely, which Rampage fancied would be the Maximal base. He wouldn't let him get that far.

When he had revived Myst, it had been easy to gently brush his hand along her side, unclip the signature blocker and slip it into subspace. He knew she didn't need it anymore, but it was a useful little device for him to have, especially for stalking prey. Granted, it'd not hide him from Tarantulas, but it could be used against the Maximals and remaining Predacons.

Rampage closed in on the terrified wanderer.

* * *

Myst stroked the surface of the CR chamber that held Waspinator. He stood in there, unconscious and seemingly peaceful. He hadn't woken up once during the whole scene Myst had created when she'd brought him into the Maximal base. She was greeted by a surprising amount of hostility upon bringing in such a weak and incapable Predacon. She didn't understand why they'd been so willing to take her in when she was for more tricky and dangerous than the little wasp bot. She guessed it was because they viewed her as a victim of Rampage, someone who'd been misled and confused from the moment she'd entered the Beast Wars. 

They were right in a sense. Myst had been misled, but she was no victim. She'd been a fool and there was nothing else to it. Or, at least that was what she tried to tell herself.

Eventually she convinced them to at least give Waspinator a fighting chance by repairing his damage and then letting him go. He had the advantage of being a flyer, so he could get away more easily from Rampage than an earth-bound bot. The argument was that if Rampage had spared him already, he wouldn't be interested in harming him. Myst pointed out that Rampage was extremely manipulative and that was exactly what he'd want them to believe, because he was playing them, and could they have it on their conscience that Waspinator had died because they were too set in their ways to let him in? At this point she realized she was treading on thin ice, especially since Optimus Primal had taken in four Predacons already. After he reminded her of this, she shut her mouth and left it to him to decide.

She wasn't entirely sure why she cared about having Waspinator around. It just seemed to her that he had been unwittingly dragged into this whole shenanigan created by Rampage and as such he was someone she could relate to. Having him around was a comfort. She needed someone to talk to.

It became apparent, though, that there were Maximals wanting to talk to her. Myst jerked at a tap on her shoulder. Spinning around, she found herself face to face with Silverbolt.

"Sorry to alarm you, but you have been standing against that CR chamber for nearly a half megacycle," he said gently.

"Oh I'm...I'm fine I'm just...wondering when Waspinator will get out. He's been in there an awfully long time."

Silverbolt had been a Predacon once and so he took pity on Myst. He knew how awkward it felt to join a new faction when you'd never been sure about what side you were on in the first place. Myst had claimed to be neutral, but she had Predacon programming in her from the start. In Silverbolt's mind, that was reason enough for her behaviour up 'til now. Had she been Maximal, she surely would not have fled into the forest and allied herself with a dark menace like Rampage.

He could change Predacons, though. He had brought Blackarachnia around eventually. He had secretly made it his mission to ease the transition for Myst.

"Why don't you talk to some of the others and get yourself properly acquainted? I know they all seem a little tense right now, but that is to be expected with all the turmoil that's been going on. They're all good bots, I assure you."

Myst looked into the kind, yellow optics of the Maximal before her and was unable to suppress a slight smile. "I highly doubt any of your comrades want to talk to me right now. I've caused enough upset as it is." _'Rattrap mistrusts me, Depth Charge loathes me and Optimus is far from impressed with my bringing a Predacon into his base without permission,' _she thought.

Silverbolt tilted his head to the right with a sad look on his face. "Now, I'm sure that's not true."

"Oh, believe me, it is," she said and gently pushed past him. He turned to watch her walk over to the computer console and hunch over it, head bowed.

"I can see you're unhappy. You have had a very traumatic time. I'd like to help you settle in," Silverbolt offered.

Myst's back was to him and so he could not see the look of exhaustion on her face. While she appreciated his kind efforts to help her, she did not want his help. Joining the Maximals had been hard enough and she didn't want someone on her case, watching that she became a full convert. In Myst's mind, this was only a temporary stop. She hoped that sometime a rescue ship would come and she'd return to Cybertron and be left to her own devices there. Of course she knew that might not happen, in which case she should get used to the idea of living with these Maximals...but it was too much for her to contend with right now.

"I appreciate that, Silverbolt, but I'd rather grow accustomed to everything by myself and in my own time, if that's okay with you," she said in a rational and polite manner. She hoped he'd understand her and leave her alone.

"Very well, but my offer stands. I'll always be willing to do my best to help you fit in," Silverbolt affirmed. Myst nodded and, satisfied that he had made an impression, Silverbolt left the control room.

It might have seemed a bit too soon to be leaving an ex-Predacon alone in the base's main control room, but all the computers were locked to her and no one had given her codes to access them. It didn't bother her all that much because she didn't expect them to warm to her overnight. However, it did not help with the utter sense of alienation and desolation she she now felt.

Myst found a chair and eased into it. She'd barely slept since she'd returned, even though she really needed to. The shock of her near-death experience had kept her awake initially but now it had caught up to her and she was exhausted.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, feeling heavy and weary. She didn't want to move. Her body ached for rest, but her mind kept running through thoughts and memories which sparked off unwanted emotions.

She thought of her first encounters with Rampage. He had convinced her on only their second meeting to let her guard down and allow him to touch her. He had seemed so gentle, calm and mysterious. She'd been wary of him at first, but far too quickly she had grown to trust him and even like him. She couldn't deny the torrent of emotion inside her now stemmed from the fact that she had begun to care about him and want his company. In discovering the truth of his past and rejecting him as a result, Myst felt she had lost touch with the only bot who had truly understood her. Rampage was, when it came down to it, the best friend she'd ever had.

Already she missed him.

But she couldn't, she just _couldn't_ affiliate herself with a killer. She couldn't remain friendly with a psychopath. Not only was it unethical, it was putting her own life in danger. She was right to end their relationship. It would have only met a bad end had it continued...

Somehow that conclusion didn't comfort her as much as she'd hoped it would. Myst bit back the sobs rising in her throat. She had to get over him. She had to get over past few days. She had to move on.

Quietly she stood and left the dully lit control room. She made her way to her newly assigned quarters, entered them, shut the door and collapsed onto her recharge bed.

* * *

Quickstrike was painfully aware of the sound his feet made when they snapped twigs and crunched leaves. Every creak and crack was a small piece of agony as he made his way through the forest to the Maximal base. 

He was trying his best to get to his destination as quickly and quietly as possible. He didn't want to make too much noise when there was a hunter in the area. The fuzor had never felt terror to this degree before. He felt cold and hot at the same time and his synthetic beast mode skin was prickling. He felt both an urgent compulsion to run brought on by bestial survival instincts, and a sick feeling of weary resignation - like he just wanted to die and be done with it. The fear and discomfort were so intense he could barely handle them.

He was travelling along a dry riverbed. He knew a river usually flowed out of the forest and several kilometres west of the site of the Ark, so if he followed it out and turned east, he'd be on his way there.

He heard a harsh squawk and sudden beating of wings. He gasped and looked up to see three ravens flying to new perches further on. Quickstrike allowed himself a moment to recover from his scare and then continued feeling even more nervous and uptight. His internal scanner had no incoming energy signatures to report, but that did not comfort him. He was well aware Rampage had a knack for avoiding such sensors.

A root hidden in the bramble snagged his clumsy feet and he tripped. He landed face first into the dirt and dust but wasted no time in getting up again. He cursed under his breath. He was incapable of moving very fast in robot mode, but he was too afraid to travel in beast mode, which was considerably more vulnerable. Steeling himself against a growing sense of dread, Quickstrike pushed forward at a faster pace. He kept his eyes on the ground ahead to make sure he didn't trip up again.

He felt mildly pleased with himself after ten minutes had passed and he'd avoided several roots and obstructing rocks in his path. The end of the forest was within sight now. He'd made it. Once in the open, he'd have a much better chance of making it to the Ark alive. He stepped up his pace in the final hundred meter stretch to the bright sunlight at the exit of this claustrophobic nightmare. His breath caught in his throat as something large emerged from behind two huge oaks not thirty feet away. Quickstrike froze as the fearsome Transformer stepped into his path.

He stared, petrified, as Rampage gauged the distance between himself and his prey. A smile lit up in his optics.

"There you are. My sense for terror led me straight to you."

Quickstrike raised his cobra head slowly. "Don't take a step closer...or else."

"Or you'll do what? Shoot me? I hardly think that'll make any difference," Rampage said half-heartedly. He took a step forward and Quickstrike tensed visibly.

"I'm warning you!" the frightened Predacon said, surprised at how steady his voice had sounded. Faking confidence was one of his talents.

Rampage took another step forward and Quickstrike took aim.

"If my presence is so offensive to you, Quickstrike, why haven't you shot me already?"

_'Because I know I can't win,'_ the fuzor thought grimly and he knew Rampage was reading that thought.

"Just stay put, crabby, let me by, and no one gets hurt," he ordered.

Rampage gestured to the bank on his right. "Go ahead," he said calmly.

Quickstrike knew there was something wrong here - Rampage still had a trick to play. He knew that if he tried to pass, he'd_ die _trying. But he couldn't stay here, either.

"I see you're reluctant to follow your own instruction," Rampage jeered slyly. He took two steps forward. "So why don't I make it easier for you?"

If that was a forewarning, Quickstrike missed it, because in the next second Rampage had lunged.

From a distance, a few alarmed birds could be seen fluttering hastily upwards.

* * *

Tarantulas awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep at the monitors again. He'd been watching various screens being broadcast by his many arachnoid cams all over the area. He even had underwater ones to check around the Nemesis, so nervous was he of Rampage. 

He should have been working, but three days without recharge had finally caught up with him. He blinked a few times and it took him a moment to register the sight before his eyes. Four of his land cams were out. He glanced at the time - he'd only been asleep a megacycle. Who could have noticed and destroyed four of his arachnoids in such a short space of time? A fifth one was damaged and stuck, too. He tried a reboot via signal transmission to kick-start it into action. It strained a little but didn't move any more. He scowled at its screen. The right half of its lens was covered in something thick and gooey. The clear half was filming something he couldn't quite make out. It looked rather like a spark case...

He checked the register numbers of the offline cams and noted they were all forest cams. They had been active in the same forest Rampage was last seen going into. Before he could mull over this disturbing discovery, the scene in front of cam five suddenly changed. The forest blurred as the camera was jolted and then pulled back along the ground a bit more steadily. Tarantulas froze in his seat and narrowed his optics, trying to make out the object that was becoming clearer as the perspective changed. The cam ceased reversing and was still. Tarantulas gurgled slightly when he realized what the object was. It was indeed a spark case.

The cam was jolted again and Tarantulas tensed. Its view was blocked momentarily. The next thing he saw was Rampage's face.

The spider gripped the armrests of his chair and sat up straight, optics wide with shock.

"I bet you're wondering who that belongs to?" Rampage girded wryly. He reached for something and held it up in view of the cam. It was a sticky fluid pump, still dripping with mech fluid. "Same 'bot as this belongs to," he declared and cackled.

Tarantulas felt sick. Not because he was queasy at the sight of a fellow Transformer's ripped-out internals, but because he knew his own were in serious danger of suffering the same fate.

The cam's focus changed back to Rampage's face.

"Let this be a friendly reminder that I still abhor you, Tarantulas, and I fully intend on butchering you as slowly, painfully and savagely as is possible." He paused to smile. "I also believe I have you to thank for all the trouble Myst and I suffered. So! Now that you're aware of your crimes, you can brace yourself for the penalty." The camera zoomed in on his face a little more and the smile faded from his eyes. "Don't think I won't find you. I don't need a sophisticated tracking device to locate a shivering, miserable spider like yourself." The lens zoomed out and Rampage smirked again. "'Til then..." There was the brief sound of metal being crushed and the camera died. A red diagonal band shot across its blank screen.

Tarantulas stared at that red band a long time after.

* * *

**Six Hours Later:**

Depth Charge lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. He was tired but he had been battling to sleep. Quietly, he was seething. His mind ran through all the possible scenarios that could have taken place instead of the one he'd picked, the one where he chose to spare the life of one wretched femme and let a killer go free. If Rampage murdered anyone else from this day on, it would be his fault.

If he had kept his mouth shut, Myst would have died. Then, they would have repaired the weapon. He would have gone hunting for the crabbot, he would have found him and he would have shot him a hundred times over until there was nothing left for that accursed spark of his to repair. He would have destroyed that demon once and for all. No longer would he have plagued the Universe with his presence, haunted his dreams with his wicked laughter and tormented all who came across him. Depth Charge could have made sure of that. He should have made sure of that.

He breathed out a loud sigh as he struggled to contain the anger boiling inside him. He knew he should sleep before he succumbed to senseless rage. He shut off his optics and laid still, refusing to think or to feel. It took a while but finally sleep came to him. He fell into a dream.

The hallway was dark. The lights were all out, save for the bright, violent sparks that burst forth from writhing cables. He walked forward slowly, footsteps heavy with dread. It was cold...so cold...

The white walls of the laboratory were no longer bright and sterile; they were cracked and dirty. A trail of dried blood started on each wall and he could see that someone had dragged fingers deliberately along them. He continued forward, breathing heavily, the pulsing of his spark thrumming in his head. He felt the desire to retch building up inside him and every instinct told him to turn back, to run, to get away from this hellish place. But still...he felt drawn by the dark doorway at the end of the corridor. Shapes littered the floor further on and as he came to them he averted his gaze so that he was staring directly forward. He stepped on some of them and felt fingers twisting and breaking under the weight of his feet, arms snapping, limbs crunching. He ignored them, concentrating only on his destination and keeping his nausea down. The squirming power cables hissed and spat as he walked by, drawing near now to the dark, cold entrance of the room at the end of the corridor. Even though the building had been broken and battered, he still recognised this passageway as the one leading to the Main Laboratory.

He paused at the doorway. A bitterly cold, hollow wind caressed his front, cruelly enticing him to come in. The darkness ahead seemed all-consuming. He tightened his hands into fists and stepped into the thick black, deep dread swamping him.

He screamed. His voice rose up around him, filling the air, ringing and reverberating in his head. It lasted an age and grew in intensity and slowly voices joined his and the lone cry of agony became a chorus of shrieks and yells of terror and pain. The sounds became deafening and he gripped his head, still yelling, drowning in the cacophony that surrounded him.

At his feet she lay. Her body was mutilated and mangled beyond recognition, but her face had been left intact. Her dead eyes stared up at him, her mouth hung open in a silenced scream. Her chest gaping, blood a sticky puddle in which her pulverized form rested. Her left arm was reaching out and her lifeless fingers just touched his ankle. Depth Charge froze, doubled over in anguish, screaming until his vocal chords could take no more. The cry sputtered out into a drawn-out, monotonous whimper. The clamour around him died with his voice and he rocked back and forth, hand gripping his head so tightly his fingers were digging into his metal. Finally, his tense body went lax and his arms fell, swaying loosely at his side. He stared down at her, desolate and broken.

His wife was amid a mess of strewn corpses. The tiled white floor was soiled with trails and splashes of mech fluid and littered with dismembered bodies. One dull light shone wearily down on the massacre, directly onto her body. The silence was hard and utterly complete. Nothing stirred, nothing breathed. All that there was, was death.

Depth Charge pulled up and slowly turned around, facing the entrance from which he'd come. He stared ahead, numb, exhausted beyond words, and watched as the silent red and blue lights of an emergency crew crept up along the passageway. They approached noiselessly like spirits of colour and light, but they only increased the emptiness he now felt. They were too late. They were forever too late.

He awoke simply. His optics merely lit and the ceiling of his quarters filled his vision. Depth Charge stared with unseeing eyes and waited for the dull throes of emotional agony to fade enough for him to draw in his next breath. When that happened, he summoned the strength to get up. A single purpose drove him to his door and out into the quiet hallways of the Maximal base.

* * *

Myst too had been dreaming, but her dream was a mess of dialogue and flashbacks. She tossed and turned as memories of her life on Cybertron mixed with garbled snippets of the events that had taken place on Earth. She imagined herself staring at a victim of gang violence. He lay on the ground, alive but beaten to a near pulp. She watched from a distance. She always watched and did nothing. The imagining blurred and flickered and then Rampage was there, standing over the maimed bot. 

_"You know he's not going to make it," Rampage said and looked across at her, eyes bright and inquisitive._

_"Kill him," she said emotionlessly. _

_He laughed merrily and smashed both hands down on the bot's face. He died instantly. Rampage looked back up at her. "You're so merciful."_

_The image blurred again and Myst found herself standing where Rampage had been, staring down at the horribly mangled Transformer who'd been alive a few moments ago. She felt a fleeting moment of remorse and then nothing. A shadow appeared beside her._

"Wake up, Myst. Myst..."

_She turned and looked at Rampage. He was staring at her wildly. "Someone's here. He wants to hurt you. You're not safe here."_

She was shaken awake. "Gah! Ohhh..." she blurted and swatted her hands above her face, trying to ward off the unwelcome presence. The shaking stopped and she opened her eyes and looked up groggily. Depth Charge was glowering down at her.

"PRIMUS, Depth Charge!" she exclaimed and sat up, rubbing her head gingerly. She had a terrible headache.

"Get up."

She glanced up at him with a confused frown. "Wha...?"

"I said get up!"

Myst continued to frown at him, looking perplexed and slightly alarmed, as she swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood. "Depth Charge, what is all this abo---"

He grabbed her suddenly and pushed her hard against the wall. Myst felt the air being knocked out from her and her eyes widened in shock. The next instant, Depth Charge was upon her, pressing his large hands against her shoulders. He pushed hard, pinning her firmly against the cold steel behind her.

"UH! Depth Charge stop! You're hurting me!"

"What did he tell you? What did he say to you that made you trust him like you did?" the mantabot demanded, eyes burning in violent intensity.

"What do you me---"

He jerked her hard and she choked a cry. "You heard me! Answer!" he snarled.

She stared at him fearfully and risked a short pause to allow her thoughts to collect. She realized what he was doing, what he wanted.

"You must understand, from the moment we met he was gentle, rational...he offered me friendship and security. I was alone and hungry and confused and he...he was like some sort of saviour. I didn't trust him immediately but he was just...so..."

Depth Charge stared at her with wild expectancy. "Just so what?"

"I-I dunno... Convincing," she ended weakly. The words weren't coming to her, or rather not the right ones. Depth Charge continued to stare at her and she could feel the surge of confused desperation coming from him.

"He must have said _something_ that swayed you," he whispered harshly.

Myst's eyes closed for a moment as she fought to contain her own emotions. Rampage was a sore point that Depth Charge was ruthlessly pressing.

"He said..." She drew in a deep breath in an attempt to steady her racing spark. "He said he understood me."

Depth Charge's hard focus on her lingered a moment longer and then shifted, his gaze becoming distant. He eased up the pressure on her and Myst went limp, feeling more weary than she had ever felt in her life.

"Understood you," he echoed and then shook his head slightly. He stepped back and released her. She looked up a him blearily.

"You," he said quietly, "are the biggest fool I have ever met."

She did nothing but watch him, a look of hopelessness and defeat on her face. Depth Charge nodded, as if finally understanding something that had been addling him a long time. He turned away from her and left the room. Myst waited until the door had slid closed before she sank to the floor. She sat, huddled against the wall and her bed and hugged her knees, feeling cold, ashamed and lonely.

Yes, she was a fool.

* * *

The following day she awoke in a more normal fashion. She pulled herself up, left her room and wandered down the corridor to the control room. She was the last one, apparently, to enter. The Maximals were all grouped together and she couldn't shake the feeling that they'd been discussing her when she stumbled in. The conversations ended abruptly and they dispersed, losing themselves in various small jobs. 

"How're you feeling?" Rhinox asked her kindly as she came up to the computers.

"Fine, thanks. I owe you one."

Rhinox shook his head. "Hardly."

She didn't want to respond to that, because she knew where it would lead. She glanced around the place. Optimus was having an earnest conversation with a very grim looking Depth Charge. Rattrap was leaning against the far wall, cleaning his gun, Cheetor was at another of the computers and Blackarachnia and Silverbolt were assembling extra panels by the exit hallway, most likely to go to the blast doors to re-enforce them.

"Everyone's got something to do, except me," she remarked tiredly.

"I've got some questions to ask you which may help our situation, if you can answer them," he said cautiously.

Myst glanced sidelong at him. "Questions about the one subject I'd rather not talk about, I'm betting."

"Myst, it's a serious problem."

"I know," she sighed and looked away. She noted Rattrap was shooting daggers at her with his eyes. She turned from him to Depth Charge. The mantabot made no sign of even acknowledging her. Her gaze went past him to the CR chamber. She realized with a sudden pang of panic that it was empty.

She wheeled on Rhinox. "Where's Waspinator?"

The demand came out a little too loudly and everyone turned to look at her. She held her ground. "Where is he?" she pressed when Rhinox failed to reply straight away.

He shot Optimus a desperate look. She turned to the Maximal leader, eyes pleading an answer.

"He's repaired, Myst. He's in the holding room until we can decide what to do with him."

Myst sagged with relief. "Oh..." She mentally scolded herself for getting so uptight so quickly. She never used to be like this. She always had been a calm, collected bot until recently.

"Did he say anything when he woke?" she asked him.

"Yes," Optimus answered somewhat reluctantly. He could see she wasn't going to settle for a one word answer and so he continued. "He was...pretty frightened when he emerged. I don't know what happened to him prior to your bringing him to us, but he's shaken, to say the least."

"Of course he's shaken! Do you know what he had to witness?" she uttered and regretted it immediately after. Rattrap was first to take advantage.

"Yeah, somethin' HE instigated. Dat bug should be slagged fer doin' what he did! It's because 'o him dat Rampage is on da loose again."

Myst glared at the Maximal. "No, it's not his fault. If you're going to blame anyone for this, blame me. I was the one who brought Waspinator into the equation. He was only doing as he was told to do. The penalty of dishonouring the alliance we were a part of was far worse than obeying it."

"Oh yeah? Says who? You don't know dat Rampage ain't just gonna go postal on all of us at any given moment, including _Waspy._ He's a killer! A ruthless, demented killer. He don't give a slag about us! Can't you see he's just playin' with his food before da final blow?"

"That's enough, Rattrap," Optimus cut him off. Rattrap holstered his gun and folded his arms with a snort. Depth Charge nodded once at the rat in an unspoken, mutual agreement.

Myst wanted to cease existing. The scrutiny, the hateful glares, the hostility...it was something she'd had to contend with her whole life and she was sick of it.

"If you want to chastise me then go ahead, I can take it. But for pity's sake, leave Waspinator alone. He's nothing but a weak, abused bot with no faction left to go to."

"What we decide to do with Waspinator is none of your concern. He's a guest in our base for now but he's far from welcome," Optimus stated firmly. Myst's glare turned from Rattrap to him. He sighed. "Look, I'm not going to throw him out there and leave him to die. He can stay here, but I'm not letting him out of that holding cell until I've thought it through. Is that understood?"

Her glare softened and she nodded. He turned to his Maximals. "Now you've all got jobs to do, so I suggest you get on with them."

The order was not threatening but it was one that no one wanted to question. Optimus was looking more anxious and on-edge than usual and it was clearly unwise to try his patience any further. Depth Charge strode out of the room, followed by an irritable looking Rattrap. Blackarachnia and Silverbolt disappeared down the exit hallway, leaving Myst alone with Cheetor, Optimus and Rhinox.

"I didn't want to say it earlier, but I don't think it should wait any longer," Rhinox spoke up. The three turned to the scientist, who was sitting in his favourite chair before the monitors. He looked up at them worriedly. "Quickstrike left the Predacon base. I've been monitoring his signature for some time. He was on his way here when I checked last night. I've just done a quick search for him. He's gone."

"Gone?" Cheetor echoed. "Gone as in...?"

"Gone as in he's disappeared off the map. I was pretty sure he was coming here to seek asylum, so there's no logical reason for him to have changed course and gone off the mapped area..."

"Oh, Primus..." Myst muttered under her breath and she looked at her feet unhappily.

Optimus and Cheetor exchanged glances. "Myst, do you think Rampage...?" Cheetor couldn't contain the question on everyone's mind.

She nodded softly. "Probably."

Optimus's facial expression was grim. "What about Inferno? Any sign of him?"

Rhinox shook his head. "As far as I know, he's still in the Predacon base."

"He won't be for long. He's must be real mad that Megatron's dead. Surely he'll leave and chase Rampage down?" Cheetor wondered.

"I'm not sure what he'll do. All I know is that if he tries, he'll just end up as one more of Rampage's growing list of victims," Optimus said with a weary shake of his head.

"Well...we're re-enforcing the doors so he can't get in...right?" Cheetor persisted, trying to eke out some suggestion of hope from the bleak situation.

"It should hold him off for a while, and he's smart enough not to take us all on at once. The problem is that he has us all trapped inside our own base. Our freedom's severely limited. None of us can leave the base alone, or even in twos or possibly threes without being in serious danger," Rhinox explained.

"We can't live like that! We need to get energon...and go for walks!" Cheetor flailed. Suddenly, he felt very claustrophobic.

"Don't panic, Cheetor! We'll think of something," Optimus tried to quell the rising fear in the young catbot beside him.

"No, Cheetor's right...we'll rot in here. Something's got to be done and soon," Myst spoke up calmly.

Rhinox took immediate notice of her statement. "You know Rampage better than any of us, so maybe you can help us devise a plan."

Myst dropped her gaze to the floor. A surge of guilt and quiet desperation filled her. She knew she should help them, she owed it to them to help...but she didn't want to. A part of her felt more than rotten for betraying Rampage, even though he had deceived her all this time. To be asked to be an instrument in his downfall was simply too much for her. She quite simply wanted no more to do with him, because even the thought of him confused and upset her. He created discord in her heart, because a part of her hated him bitterly, while another longed for him.

"I...don't know of anything that could be of use, really," she said quietly and slowly. She could feel the incredulous stares boring into her. She felt hot and uncomfortable.

Her head snapped up. "Look, he's...he's got his spark, he's stronger now, but it's not merged...so that's gotta count for something," she stumbled along. It was a valid observation and it was all she was going to offer them today.

Rhinox nodded softly. "There's only one bot that could do that for him now."

"Tarantulas," Myst affirmed. "I can tell you one thing. Rampage and Tarantulas working together is a very unlikely possibility."

"But a possibility nonetheless," Optimus said, much to her surprise. The thoughtful, serious tone of his voice spawned a small but unsettling seed of doubt inside her.

"We need to have a proper discussion about this. Perhaps later, when Myst's more willing to talk about things?" Rhinox suggested, casting a glance at the cheerless femmebot to his left.

"We'll talk this afternoon," Optimus decided, aiming the statement at Myst. She turned away from him and left the room, fed up with the whole situation.

Optimus and Rhinox looked at one another with a common understanding. Cheetor merely said: "Someone's got issues."

* * *

Rampage sat on a ledge near the top of a mountain. From here he could see the volcano that held the Ark, the meandering dry path the river had left on the landscape, the forest where he had found Myst and far away on the edge of the horizon, the energon mine. Behind him was the Darkside and to his right the ocean stretched seemingly forever. Yes, from up here everything seemed clearer, simpler. 

There was, however, a sense of tension and foreboding in the air. While the sky was clear directly above him, enormous storm clouds were gathering in the distance. By the end of the day, the rains would be here. Rampage delighted in storms. They were wild, unpredictable and provided excellent cover for sneaking around and stalking. They also harboured secrets. The forest came alive with shifting shadows and haunting moans and cries carried on the wind. The sea became a tumultuous, writhing liquid body which bit at the land with awesome force. He liked storms, because they represented what he felt inside.

He lay back, resting on his elbows while his legs dangled over the edge. The wind, cold and biting, rippled over his form. To him, it was the ultimate sense of freedom.

But even up here in this remote and peaceful location, he was troubled. He knew he should be feeling better after killing two bots he disliked. Megatron's death had been satisfying, but Quickstrike's had been almost annoying. He wasn't deriving the same pleasure from living up to his name as he had in the past.

Not having a clear idea where his main target was was probably a contributor to his feeling of discontentment. He felt restless and purposeless without knowing where to find the spider. But that wasn't the only thing eating away at him.

If everything went according to plan and he had his spark back in its entirety...what next? He was stranded here just as much as the Maximals were, only nobody was going to make any effort to rescue _him_. He had all of forever to get off this planet, but without essential equipment to sustain a Transformer for long periods of time, his body would rust away and his spark would drift endlessly, much like the bot he was spawned from. He wasn't fussy over where he ended up and who he encountered, but he did need change. He couldn't wither away in one place, he needed to travel and...exorcise his hatred for everything. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to do that, but slaughtering everyone he came across seemed a logical and mildly pleasing way of going about it. But it went deeper than that. He had a deep-rooted hatred mixed with a sense of longing that drove him on, to an end he feared would never come. It was, when he thought about it, a hellish kind of existence. Immortality was a gift - oh, he'd vouch for that - but it was a terrible one.

Somehow, though, he felt that death wasn't as unobtainable as he'd been led to believe. It was partly why he'd kept Depth Charge alive. A part of him was hoping the manta would figure out a way to destroy him. Rampage wasn't sure he felt ready to die yet, but when the moment came, he wanted the option.

He sighed softly and turned his attention to the little arachnoid he was gripping in his left hand. He shifted backwards and sat up straight, turning the mini-drone in his hand thoughtfully. He'd kept it because it was the only link he had to the spider. It was broken now and sticky with the mech fluid his wet fingers had coated it with. He could smell the robotic blood strongly. He stiffened. He could also smell something else there. There was the smell of the forest, yes, but there was the faintest trace of another smell he knew all too well. He brought the arachnoid closer to his face and he noted a closed panel at its rear. He carefully pulled at the panel and it came off and something popped open and out of it. Rampage blinked at a small propeller. The familiar smell he'd picked up on was stronger now that the propeller was revealed. It was the smell of the ocean.

Rampage continued to stare at the arachnoid. Why would an arachnoid in the forest carry a propeller? Quite obviously because it had been launched from underwater.

He turned his gaze to the ocean. "Hmmm..."

* * *

Click here for part two 


	2. Chapter 2

**Lost Touch**

**Part Two**

**By:** Sapphire (aka Malachite157)

* * *

Inferno was deeply underestimated. Everyone assumed he'd go tearing out after Rampage in a blind rage and that would be that. Inferno was wiser. He knew charging in headstrong would get him nowhere. It was a lesson he'd learnt from the Royalty. He needed a strategy of some kind. He was unused to making his own plans having taken orders his whole life, so he was taking a while in coming up with something which would properly avenge the death of his leader.

He'd emerged from the C.R. tank shortly after Quickstrike had left and had been absently keeping track of his movements while he worked on a plan. It hadn't been surprising when the fuzor's signature suddenly vanished. It was a rather grim reminder of what Rampage was capable of. Inferno did not fear death, he feared failure. Whatever he did in a tribute to Megatron, he had to make it count.

But how do you stop an eighteen foot killer crab? Inferno was a tough fighter, but he wasn't tough enough, at least not alone. It occurred to him that he needn't be alone in the hunt of Rampage. The Maximals wanted him gone, too, especially one Maximal in particular. It didn't take a genius to see that Depth Charge didn't agree with the way Optimus Primal handled things. If approached at the right time and given a good offer, he might be swayed in joining him. Usually the idea of allying himself with a Maximal would seem preposterous, but as far as Inferno knew, he was the only Predacon left. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

It was the best he could come up with. He needed to go to the area of the Ark anyway, to collect the corpse of his leader for a proper funeral. If he encountered Depth Charge while there, he'd propose his idea. With that resolution in mind, Inferno set out for the Ark's perimeter. He flew and was careful not to fly over any forests. One SAM from Rampage was all it would take to ground him. Even in the air, one was not safe...

* * *

Myst had decided to stay in her quarters for the most of the day. It was late afternoon now and she was tired of brooding at her blank desk, listening to some of Cheetor's dreadful music and trying to forget about the events of the past few days. She'd manually shut down for a few hours, forcing herself to take unneeded recharge. She simply didn't want to be awake. If the Maximals had come in to bother her, they would have found her limp and unresponsive at her desk. She didn't care. She didn't want to discuss Rampage or anything else with them.

When her internal timer roused her from stasis she found herself stiff and a little sore. She really should have walked the three meters to her bed, but the decision to shut down had been rather impulsive. Myst hadn't cried in stellar cycles, and she refused to allow herself to cry over him.

She did, however, feel mildly better. Well enough, she decided, to venture outside her room and ask for directions to the holding cell where Waspinator was kept. She wanted to see him. There was no real reason to talk to him, other than deep down inside she felt frustratingly lonely and desperate and Waspinator was, in her mind, the only person she could confide in. He could relate, having been involved in this whole mess. She also was filled with a reluctant curiosity as to what Rampage had actually said and done to him.

She opened her door and stepped out into the gloomy passageway. Not really having any direction to go, she chose right and decided to explore the base until she found someone to lead her to the cell, or she discovered it herself.

Two corners later she bumped into her least favourite bot.

"An' just where do ya think you're goin', missy?"

Myst had actually walked into Rattrap. They'd been turning the same corner from opposite sides simultaneously, fortunately slowly. She took two steps back and regarded him coolly.

"Just walking. I'm one of your team now - I assume I have the _privilege_ of walking in base."

"'Fess up, girl. What're ya really after?"

"Why do you think I'm after anything?"

Rattrap folded his arms and smirked a little. "Because I'm a bot who's often up ta things myself. I can tell right away when someone's got an agenda on deir mind. I can see it in deir eyes."

Myst glanced towards the heavens and sighed. "Fine, where's Waspinator's holding cell? I'd like to talk to him."

Rattrap's half-smirk immediately disappeared. "Why?"

Myst fought to keep her anger and impatience in check. "Waspinator's a victim in this situation too, you know. I just want to check up on him. Ask him some things about...about yesterday. You know he could offer some useful info."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. An' even if he does, I'd rather be there than leavin' you wid' him alone. Ya might try somethin' an' yes, before ya ask, I'll tell ya straight dat I don't trust you."

"Well now, can you tell me straight that you don't trust me because I sided with a killer _unknowingly_, or because I'm a Predacon? Or ex-Predacon, if we're to be technical," Myst asked challengingly. She was an empath and as such, she could detect the sheer volume of hatred Rattrap emitted when he was around her. He disliked her far more than was logical and had that same look of contempt in his eyes she had seen all too often before.

"Both," Rattrap stated simply, turned and with a slight gesture of his hand, beckoned her to follow him. Myst blinked, surprised that he had decided to help her out after all, and walked after him.

As they headed towards the holding cell, Rattrap started asking questions.

"So tell me. What did Rampage actually _say_ dat made you look past da noticeable look 'o insanity in his eyes, da violent tendencies, da fearsome appearance even, and decide ta trust him?" Rattrap questioned without turning his head to look back at her.

Myst's footsteps faltered for a second but she regained her pace, reminding herself that losing her nerve was exactly what Rattrap wanted her to do, to prove whatever point he was out to make.

"I've already suffered this interrogation. I don't fancy repeating myself," she replied restrainedly.

"Nevah explained it ta me, or anyone else I know," Rattrap snorted.

Myst refused to answer to that. "Come on, tell me. I'm _dyin' _ta know," he pressed sarcastically.

"I'm an opportunist, like yourself, rat," she spat the last word. "He offered me food and protection. I was wary of him, but I was also in a fairly desperate position. I'd rather have taken my chances with a rebel than join either faction."

Rattrap stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. Myst too stopped, dreading his next few words. There was restrained fury in every inch of his body as he made that turn.

"Do ya even know what Rampage did on Omicron?"

"Now I do, yes, but I didn't at the time. Simple as that. Now drop it, ok?" Myst urged irritably, hands twitching towards balling into fists.

"Don't look like his atrocities have affected you much. But den I suppose impassiveness is to be expected from a bot whose morals are Predacon. It was, after all, a Maximal colony he massacred."

He was pushing her buttons dangerously now. The 'morals' he spoke of Myst had abandoned long ago. It suddenly made her question why she was here at all. Part of the reason she hadn't gone back to Rampage was _because it was unethical _to ally herself with a killer. But listening to Rattrap talk to her derisively about Predacon morality made her question why she bothered with ethics at all.

"You know what? Had it been a colony of Preds, I still wouldn't have cared much. Seriously And factions? I don't care for them. As for morals... I cling to a few only because it's the right thing to do. But if it satisfies your prejudice, Rattrap, if Rampage came in here right now and hacked your stupid head off, I wouldn't give a Predacon_ or_ Maximal slag."

Rattrap stared at her and shock crept into his eyes. His contemptuous expression remained and after a tense moment of silence between them, he snorted haughtily and turned around. They continued without speaking down the hallway and turned into another, which had one door on the right. Rattrap stopped at this door and punched in a code. It slid open. He gestured to her to go inside.

"Your buzzing little buddy is in here," he said gruffly.

Myst walked to the entrance and stepped into a dark, mostly empty room with a power-bond cage in the centre. She turned around when she didn't hear Rattrap's footsteps. He was waiting at the door.

"Aren't you going to come in and monitor that we don't plot?" Myst asked sourly.

Rattrap shook his head slowly, dark hatred never leaving his gaze. "Nah, I've nuthin' ta fear from you. What you and dat miserable bug say to each other don't interest me." With that he closed the door. It shut with an ominous, echoing clang. Myst stared at it as she ruminated over his last words for a few seconds. Eventually, she disregarded any hidden meanings there may have been in them. Maybe he just was an injured, racist fool who'd been burned by Preds somewhere in his distant past. There was hurt at the core of his anger, but she didn't care what had caused it.

With a dismissive snort, she slowly turned to face the prisoner.

* * *

Optimus absorbed the information being presented to him on the main computer screen. The data displayed informed him of their current energon reserves. They were low and needed replenishing. It also gave him a weather forecast for the next twenty-four hours. According to energy readings, one tremendous storm was brewing and it would hit this evening and remain set for at least two days. As the day was beginning to draw to a close, he realized that if they didn't go and retrieve energon now, they'd be in a fix. Especially since extra power was needed to support the newly installed extra-defenses and, of course, Waspinator's cell. There was no way around it. They'd have to leave now and mine some energon.

He figured that, if he went with two fliers, they'd be all right. Rampage wasn't foolish enough to take them all on. It did occur to him, though, that the intelligent crabbot could have set a trap for them at the mine. He'd been sighted there before and he knew that was their main energon source. It was the perfect place to ensnare his prey, if he'd thought up a good way of going about that. It'd actually only take one direct hit from his impressive missiles to blow them all to scrap.

Optimus sighed and rubbed his temples. On the one hand it made sense to take more than two bots with him on this expedition, so someone could keep sentry while the three of them mined as quickly as possible. But, on the other hand, it wasn't wise to leave the base undermanned. Rampage was just one bot, but he was a very dangerous and clever one.

If they didn't risk it, though, they'd be sitting ducks in their own base anyway. He decided then to chance it. He'd search the outskirts of the forest by the mine first before they got to work. If Rampage was waiting in the shadows, he'd make sure to reveal him before he could strike.

The Maximal leader opened a comm. channel to both Silverbolt and Cheetor. He decided against using Depth Charge for this mission, solely because he'd had a discussion with the manta earlier and it had been obvious he was very unsettled. He'd babbled on about how it was only a matter of time before Rampage struck and that they were doing everything wrong by staying inside and waiting for him to make the next move. That had been a logical enough argument, but it was the nervous twitches and clenching and unclenching of fists, plus the aggravated tone of voice he'd used and flickers of madness in his eyes that had worried Optimus. He'd seen Depth Charge get like this before, and when he did, he was not only irrational, but dangerous as well.

He therefore discreetly called the two fliers into the control room and told them their mission. Neither questioned his orders, for which he was glad. Silverbolt was loyal and obedient to the end and Cheetor had come a long way since they started this war. No longer did he challenge his decisions.

With mining equipment in hand, the three of them left the base and hurried towards the mine, but not before Optimus informed Rhinox of their expedition and told him to put the defences on full alert.

* * *

Depth Charge had years of experience when it came to stalking. He applied his tactics of discretion and stealth on his own team, every once in a while. He knew Optimus was concerned about him - the ape's face revealed more emotion than was good for him. So it came as no surprise to him that Optimus deliberately avoided choosing him to accompany him on the mining quest. This suited Depth Charge just fine. He had his own mission to attend to.

It had been nearly a full twenty-four hours since the death of Megatron and up until now, no one had bothered to do anything with the corpse that lay not far from the cliff edge that overlooked the site of the Ark. The concentration had switched to Rampage, then to Myst and Waspinator and now to gathering energon supplies, and Megatron was forgotten. Depth Charge had at first been consumed by anger and frustration at Rampage's liberation, but now after forcing himself to calm down, his mind began to make plans on how best to deal with the situation. It was then that the idea struck him.

They still had the weapon. It was damaged, yes, but Rhinox did say he could fix it. It lacked its most important component, however, and that was the power converter. But...there was a bot lying outside that no longer needed his.

Granted, Megatron's power converter was larger than Myst's, so the gun would have to be modified. It was a small obstacle to overcome and after that, they could repair the weapon and hunt Rampage down.

Depth Charge was surprised that no one else had thought of it. Now that the idea came to him, it seemed blindingly obvious. Depth Charge knew he was no skilled technician and there was a chance that Megatron's power converter could not be utilised for some reason, but he was damned if he didn't try.

He passed through the control room silently and slipped out of the base without disturbing the bot at the computers. Rhinox would notice him leaving the area as soon as he stepped into view of the camera, but by that stage it would be too late to stop him. The manta bot left the safety of the Ark and glided up and over the cliffs.

Inferno took a moment to stare down woefully at his fallen leader. Megatron lay at his feet, lifeless and bloodied. The cracked optic, the crumpled face, the crude, gaping wound in his abdomen and the numerous dents in his metal were all testament to the brutality and callousness that was Rampage. Inferno almost shuddered at the thought of what the crab would have done to the Predacon had he had more time at his disposal. Inferno was devastated that he had not come sooner and in time to stop him, but at least his presence had ensured Megatron's death was swifter than Rampage would have liked it to have been.

He sighed, shaking his head solemnly. "I am at a loss without you, Royalty. The colony has deteriorated into nothing. I fear I am all that is left of your once glorious plan. I have failed you terribly."

His optics dimmed as he struggled with a mixture of anger, sadness and utter desolation, before finally bringing himself to doing what he came here to do. He dropped to his knees and began to put his arms under him, hoping he had enough strength to lift Megatron's dead weight.

"Ever heard of 'rest in peace'?"

Inferno pulled back his arms and looked up quickly. Towering over him with a gun trained on his head, was Depth Charge. The manta bot shifted slightly to the left and blocked out the late afternoon sun.

"Leave here, Maximal. I am not here to fight. I have merely come to collect my fallen Queen."

Depth Charge didn't snicker at Inferno's terminology. He had seen too many scenes like this in the past and knew well the emotions attached to them. Inferno was no threat to him now; just a broken, lost bot carrying out his last task of any worth.

"I believe you," Depth Charge replied quietly. "But I need something from Megatron before you take him away."

Inferno looked offended. "What? He's just a shell now! A ruthlessly butchered shell of a once glorious leader. What can you possibly want from him now?"

"It's in both our interests that I get it," Depth Charge said, trying to avoid stating exactly what he was after. He was unsure of how Inferno would react. The fire ant could be a tough opponent when he went berserk, which he looked edgy enough to go.

"I will not let you further mutilate the Royalty! Leave here or I will force you to!"

Depth Charge was still as he considered the best way to go about this. He came to a risky decision.

"Do you know what powered the weapon Megatron intended using against us?" he asked.

Inferno blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. "Well, no..." he trailed.

"A power converter. One from a Transformer. Myst, in fact. You were out for the count when Quickstrike took the weapon and used it against Rampage and myself. To cut a long story short, we got hold of the weapon and restored Myst's power converter within her, rendering the weapon useless. I came here to take Megatron's with the intention of using it to reconstitute the weapon. Like you, I want to make Rampage pay for his crimes. That weapon's my best chance of achieving that."

Inferno absorbed the information and nodded slowly, averting his gaze while he thought. "I see." After a pause, he looked up.

"Then you and I share an ambition. I do not doubt that is your honest intention. I will therefore allow you to take this piece from the Royalty, so long as afterwards you leave him to me."

"Deal," Depth Charge stated simply.

"You say we both wish to make the crab pay for his crimes, even though they differ for each of us. I have no mission left in life other than to avenge the Royalty. Perhaps, then, it would be wise to...team up, to achieve this shared goal," Inferno suggested with some difficulty.

Depth Charge's immediate reaction was to say no, forget it; he'd never ally himself with a dysfunctional, equally crazy Predacon. However, as he allowed himself to mull over the prospect of working with someone else just as hell-bent as he in bringing Rampage to justice, the notion no longer seemed so outrageous. In fact...

"How far are you willing to go to stop him?" Depth Charge asked. In retrospect, it was a silly question. Inferno was known for his complete dedication to Megatron.

Inferno stood up to face the manta properly. "I would die for the cause," he said straightforwardly. That was all Depth Charge needed to hear.

"Then we have a pact. When the weapon is functional, we will hunt Rampage together, our way." '_Primus knows the Maximals will botch it up - the last thing I need is Primal and his clumsy tactics to track down and destroy X. At least Inferno's a good, tough fighter.'_

Inferno nodded. "You will contact me when the time is right. Until then, I will make myself scarce. Now, let us get this gruesome task of removing the Royalty's converter out of the way. Do you know where to find it?"

Depth Charge had watched Myst's operation and so he knew where it would be located and what it looked like.

"Yeah. Stand aside."

Inferno reluctantly complied, and Depth Charge set to work quickly, uncomfortably aware of the dire consequences this situation could bring about if he were discovered doing this before he had explained himself.

* * *

The Nemesis had been quiet for years, save the occasional creak and moan that echoed down its empty halls. Today, however, it was alive with the soft bleeping of computers, the whir of machines and the erratic scuttling of eight metallic legs.

Tarantulas was hurriedly moving to and from holding cells and the main entrance to the control room. He was taking from the security cells various pieces of re-enforced metal and defense modules and applying them to the doors to his work station. So far he'd repaired and thickened all the lock-down doors and rigged several traps along the way that would be activated on his command only. The main slide-door to the ship's control room had been strengthened the most. All this was a drastic but important precautionary measure of protection should Rampage locate him and attempt to carry out his threat. Tarantulas was more than a little nervous of the crab.

He'd spent most of the day preparing the internal defenses. As soon as he'd recovered from Rampage's little message, he'd sprung into action and had not stopped since. It had set back operations by a day, but Tarantulas did not care. There was no point finishing the Nemesis repairs in a panicked rush. He needed to feel safe in his working environment.

The problem was, even after all the doors and guns had been put in place and Tarantulas had sealed himself in like a mussel, he still did not feel safe. Never before had the spider felt so unsettled. No matter what he did to try and make himself feel secure, the looming threat of Rampage hung over his head like a constant menacing shadow.

It had prompted him to create a weapon of his own to combat the crab effectively. He had concocted a large batch of cybervenom and loaded it into a light-weight but powerful ray-gun that worked similarly to Quickstrike's snake head. In one shot it contained enough venom to immobilise the killer for at least forty clicks and that would be more than enough time for Tarantulas to either escape or knock his enemy out altogether. Considering what there was at stake, he knew he'd have to go with the latter. Rampage was very strong, but there was a limit to how much he could take before succumbing to stasis lock.

Tarantulas paused to transform and stopped to admire his handiwork. He'd erected an autogun to aim directly at the entrance to the control room and programmed it to fire at any bot that did not have his signature. Satisfied with this final installation, he finally turned back to his work. In a compartment beneath the main console he had stored his weapon - only to be used as a last measure at stopping the maniacal crab. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

Settling at the console again, he began typing out data sequences for the take-off procedure. The computers had suffered significant damage in the crash and some of the programs had been deleted with shot harddrives. It was a nuisance, but a very necessary thing to complete.

He was just getting into the coding when there was a loud snap and a startling crash behind him. Tarantulas leapt out of his chair and wheeled around, internal weapons at the ready. His spark was pulsing rapidly in his chest and his eyes were half an inch wider than normal. To both his relief and annoyance, he realized the crash had been an autogun falling from its perch on the far right wall. His spider legs drooped as he let slip a heavy sigh. He allowed himself a moment to recover from his scare and then started to walk towards the fallen weapon.

As he bent to pick it up, he muttered: "The sooner I'm off this wretched dirtball, the better."

* * *

The sky was a silver-blue hue, marred only by streams of whipped, thin clouds. If one were to look directly up at it, it would seem peaceful and calm. But if one were to follow the sky to the horizon, one would get a different picture. Far out to sea, gathering like a swarm of black locusts, was an enormous storm. A curtain of diagonal grey sheets of rain broke up the mustard-yellow light of the sunset penetrating from behind and skimming the surface of the sea. The seemingly gentle scene above him of wisps of white against a slowly-darkening canvas was caused by the ferocious winds that were carrying the storm towards him. The foreboding collection of black clouds were lit by flashes of lightning. It was still too far away for thunder to be heard, but the sharp lashes of light were reminders of the strength of it. It was dusk now and the weather was changing for the worse.

Rampage stood and observed the storm from the shoreline. The sea changed so quickly. Not an hour ago, it had been flat as a mirror, but now the surface was disturbed by quivering ripples and further out white froths on the crest of small waves. The water hissed and lapped at his feet and it was warm and inviting while the cold breeze that swirled around him was not. Soon that breeze would turn into a wind and that wind into a howling gale. The waves would grow in size and reach up farther and father up the beach in crashing sets. The shaking coastal bush behind him would be pelted by heavy rain and threatened by the force of a swelling ocean and when the storm came upon the land in full force it would wreak untold destruction.

Rampage loved it.

This was the kind of weather he enjoyed. The tumultuous oceans, the cracks of thunder, the thrashing of leaves and twigs in the forest...the sheer power and ruthlessness of nature was the only thing he admired about this place. While others cowered indoors and hoped for it to pass quickly, Rampage revelled in the blasts of air that challenged his stance on the ground and the cool, coating rain that washed over him. He knew the weather had no mind - it was just a force created by the workings of this world. But he liked to think that it did because if he imagined it that way, he felt he was in good company.

Today, however, he was very mildly annoyed at the storm's timing. He had wanted to follow his only lead to Tarantulas but now that he had reached the shore, he realized he would not beat the storm. It would block out all the light and cause the ocean to writhe - not an easy environment to search for a very elusive bot like Tarantulas. He would have to wait for it to pass. While his eyesight wasn't bad in the dark, it wasn't that good, either. He'd have better luck in finding the bot, if he was indeed underwater like he suspected, in daylight and when the waters were calmer.

No matter. There was no great rush. He would retreat to the forest for now and wait for his stormy companion to join him. It wouldn't hurt to plot different ways of dealing with the spider once he did find him. Tarantulas often had a trick up his proverbial sleeve and so planning for unseen events was probably a good idea.

Finally, Rampage tore his eyes away from the gathering storm and looked over his shoulder. The forest started a half mile away from this beach and he could see its dark shadows beckoning him. He turned towards it and made his way there.

* * *

Myst walked tentatively towards the cell's occupant. Waspinator was sitting on the cold metal floor of his small cage, knees drawn up to his chin. His wings twitched a little as she approached.

"Waspy?" she called softly as she neared him. His gaze remained downcast and he showed almost no sign of acknowledgement.

Myst stopped a meter from the red energy bars that separated them. She looked down at his withdrawn form softly.

"Waspy..."

Still no reply. She stared at him in silence for a long time, concentrating on tuning into his emotions. Ah yes, there it was...fear...misery...insecurity and...utter weariness. He was so exhausted.

"Fuzor femme alive."

The comment had been made without any body language to support it. He remained still, staring at the floor desolately. His voice had sounded tired and disinterested.

"Yeah...remarkably," she answered gently. She paused for a minute, then spoke. "Kinda remarkable you're alive, too, you know."

Waspinator's wings buzzed a little, but Myst wasn't sure if it was a constant action associated with his beast mode, or a sign of agreement.

"I'm going to get you out of here, I promise. I won't let them hold you here indefinitely."

Waspinator shook his head sadly. "No point in being released. Waspinator has no future either way."

Myst found herself at a loss of what to say next. Waspinator was right. The Maximals obviously didn't want him and even if they could be swayed into accepting him, it would take a long time and Waspinator would never feel welcomed as a part of their group. He'd never feel like he belonged, just as she. The alternative was being released into the wild. There was no safe place out there. He'd surely wither away and perish without the support of other bots.

"I'm in the same place as you. It's a pretty hopeless place, I'll agree. But you know, all we've got is each other. All we can do is make the best of that."

Waspinator shook his head again. "Wazzn't meant to be that way."

Myst opened her mouth to reply then stopped, suddenly wondering what exactly it was he meant by that.

"Elaborate," she said simply.

Waspinator sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Fuzor-femme and Waspinator supposed to be in alliance with crab-bot. Crab-bot now hazz advantage with hizz whole spark, which Wazzpinator helped him get. It's not right that we're now with crab-bot's enemiezz."

Myst was silent. She let the comment sink in. Again, he was right. This wasn't how it was meant to be. If things had gone according to plan, right now she and Waspinator should have been roaming the wilderness freely, without fear of being hunted by the monster they'd freed and with access to at least the Predacon base. She'd have let Rampage do his thing and get his revenge without a care, so long as she had access to the essentials she needed to survive. However, it had not panned out that way. They were both among Rampage's enemies with Waspinator wasting away in a prison cell. Not a good place to be at all.

"What did Rampage say and do to you when he found you, Waspinator?" she asked slowly.

Waspinator's optics dimmed a little and then relit. "Said he was unsure what to do with me. Waspinator asked about you. Annoyed crab-bot, so crab-bot punched Waspinator."

"...That's it?" she asked a little incredulously.

Waspinator nodded.

Myst looked away, thinking that over. Finally, she came out with: "What do you think we should do?"

Waspinator looked up at her for the first time and there was a spark of hope in his eyes along with suppressed desperation. "Waspinator would join side that will win."

"And who do you think is going to win in this, Waspy?" she asked, focussing her gaze on him.

Waspinator merely looked up at her. He didn't have to say anything. It was obvious who he thought would be the victor at the end of this all.

"All right," she answered softly. "But...I think it's wise I check that joining the winning side is still an option before we make any...rash decisions," she struggled. She was grappling with the notion of what she was about to do. Her spark was beginning to pulse faster and her nerves were tingling. While turmoil filled her inside, she showed no sign of it externally. She turned away from Waspinator and headed for the door.

"Fuzor-bot be careful," Waspinator called after her. She didn't stop to face him. She simply couldn't.

She opened the door and stepped out into the cooler hallway, waiting for the door to whir closed before she leaned against it, panting slightly.

_You're not seriously going to do this, are you?_

_Why not? It's probably the most secure option, if it's still an option._

_He's a MURDERER._

_Yeah...so what difference does that make in a war situation? And, what have I got to prove? Morals are for bots living in a society, so that the society can function properly There is no such thing here. There's just the Maximals and maybe a left over Pred or two. More than likely, we're stranded here for life. No one but these pitiful Maximals is here to judge me for my choices and actions. I might as well indulge in the only thing I find alluring in this wretched place._

_How can you be attracted to a KILLER? What's so appealing about a bot who savagely hacked to death others and who lied consistently to you from the day you met him?_

_He gets me. No one has ever done that before. He cares about me, too. He must do. Why else would he have gone to such efforts to protect me, to keep me alive? That was more than just preserving some shaky pact._

_You don't know that for sure...he might turn on you..._

_He may and he has every reason to. I betrayed him far more than he did me, when it comes down to it. But there's only one way to find out._

_It's unethical._

_I don't care._

_It's risky._

_It's a risk I'm willing...**going** to take._

Myst pushed herself off of the door and started heading down the hallway. She had made up her mind, however terrified and confused and conflicted she may still be feeling inside. It was obvious it was going to take ages before the Maximals came close to truly warming to her and she wasn't sure she even wanted that. She felt sick that Rampage had misled her, sick that he had brutally killed so many...but despite all that she couldn't deny what she felt. She longed for him, because he was a bot after her own heart. He desired freedom without hidden chains. How he chose to exercise that freedom was something that still disturbed her deeply...but it wasn't like there was a lot for him to kill on this planet. She wouldn't assist him in defeating the Maximals. She would remain neutral in that regard; that's how she had always wanted to be. It was the easiest, simplest route to take. No regrets, no worries, no cares.

Pure freedom.

With that notion encouraging her, she decided to leave to find Rampage in the dead of night. He might well turn on her and that would be that, but it wasn't like she had a whole heck of a lot to lose, anyway.

She turned the corner and headed for her room. It was better to stay out of sight while she planned her leaving. She didn't want to be fresh in the minds of any of the Maximals for the next few hours.

* * *

Optimus had been very aware of the change in weather as he and Cheetor mined. They'd decided to put Silverbolt on scout patrol along the forest edge, still within their sights. He was making sure nothing suspicious was moving through the trees and towards their position. It had meant the work had taken longer as they'd been less a bot, but they had to take safety measures. Because of the sense of urgency the nearing storm created, they had hurried and as a result they'd mined a lot more than they first thought they would. Now they had enough, and just in the nick of time, too. The wind had picked up, clouds were gathering above them and it was getting dark. Time to move it.

The three of them departed from the energon mine with heavy loads and flew at a steady pace back to the Ark. Optimus was very relieved to hear the blast doors closing behind him.

"Did you mine enough?" Rhinox asked as he stood from his seat at the console. Optimus nodded. "Just enough to last us, if we're careful. Anything happen while we were gone?"

Rhinox sighed slightly. "Well, Depth Charge left the base for a half megacycle. I didn't bother trying to stop him. You won't believe what he hauled back in with him when he returned."

Optimus groaned inwardly and set down the energon container he'd been carrying. Cheetor and Silverbolt silently passed him and carried their loads to the engine room. Cheetor paused at the exit, wanting to listen in, but Silverbolt ushered him out, leaving the two to talk.

When they were out of earshot, Optimus nodded at Rhinox. "Go on, what did he bring?"

"Megatron's power converter."

Optimus glanced upwards and sighed. He wasn't surprised. He directed a weary look at Rhinox. "I suppose he asked you to reconstruct the weapon with it."

"Sure did. But I said I wanted to talk to you, first."

Optimus picked up his energon tank and deposited it by the half-empty fuel cell powering the console. Afterwards, he found a chair and sank down into it, finding himself very tired and bordering on irritable. "I see why he wants to do it. It's a pretty logical solution to the problem, but I worry that if we build it again, he'll take it and go on his own, rash mission to destroy Rampage which could get him hurt, or worse."

Rhinox nodded in total understanding. "We'll have to let him know that we're prepared to rebuild the weapon on the grounds that it will be a group effort to put a stop to Rampage, and that using it possibly isn't the only or best solution. There's more than one way to strip a tank."

"Yes, that's probably best. You and I need to discuss the best way of handling this situation. While Depth Charge knows Rampage well, he's too emotional to offer anything constructive."

Rhinox hummed at that. "There's another bot who could help us with that, who also knows Rampage well."

Optimus glanced up at Rhinox. "Again, though, there's an emotion problem."

"Myst will have to get over her issues with him if she's ever to be a successful member of this team. She herself admitted to bringing this situation about - she knows she therefore has a duty to amend it."

Optimus sighed again. "I suppose. Why don't we call her in for a meeting tonight? We could figure out a plan of action for Rampage now, and inform the two of them tonight, allowing for their input, if they have any worth offering."

"All right, but that leaves us with an important task now. What's our plan of action?" Rhinox asked.

Optimus dropped his gaze and shook his head. "Right now, I'm not sure, but we'll think of something." He looked up at his friend again.

"We have to."

* * *

Two hours later, the storm arrived. In the forest, a dark figure sat atop a flatbed rock and listened the to the hissing leaves and crashing thunder while the bramble was sucked up by the wind and thrown against him. In a cave three-quarters of the way up a mountain, a lone Predacon stood, a silhouette just inside the cave's entrance that could be seen in flashes of lightning. He was staring desolately down at soiled hands. Beneath the waves, an anxious scientist worked throughout the night under the hard artificial light of a dormant warship. Inside a sleeping volcano, three bots gathered in a central room and tried to ignore the wind beating at the door like a rabid wolf and the muffled booms of thunder.

Everybot had found a way to deal with the storm, except for one. She was still bracing herself to meet it head-on.

While she gathered her courage at the Ark's exit, Rhinox, Optimus and Depth Charge convened around a table. On it lay two objects.

"As you can see, the power converter is considerably larger than the slot made for the original one. The weapon is also significantly damaged, but not beyond repair," Rhinox stated. "But there's another problem. The power converter is cold. The reason Tarantulas took Myst's converter when she was still alive, was to preserve the energy-feed in the wires and tubes. It means that when it was installed, it already had a charge ready to receive and reciprocate, so long as it was freshly removed from the Transformer body. Megatron's converter has been deprived of energy for a day. It will be difficult to modify it in such a way that when the weapon is turned on, it doesn't short out."

"But is it possible?" Depth Charge pressed, eyes bright and determined.

Rhinox shot Optimus a brief glance of concern. "Well, yes, at least I think so. It's going to take time to get it right again. I've got a lot of damage to repair and adjustments to make."

"How long?" he asked gruffly.

"As long as it takes to do it properly," Optimus cut in. Depth Charge's optics narrowed into a glare as he looked at the Maximal leader, who returned the gesture. "We can't rush this, Depth Charge, or it won't be worth our while."

"Two weeks, roughly," Rhinox interrupted a pending argument.

Depth Charge slowly tore his eyes away from Optimus and looked at Rhinox a little less harshly. "That's a long time," he said lowly.

"It's the best I can do," Rhinox replied levelly.

"If you're worried about how vulnerable we will be in that time in terms of what Rampage might be planning for us, I think we can ask a certain someone to offer her insight into that matter," Optimus asserted.

Depth Charge's face managed to darken even more. "Myst? She's a wreck. She can't think straight long enough to offer anything of value."

"That's an unfair judgement. She was shocked and recovering from near-death when we first approached her for input," Optimus declared. "She's had all day to rest in her quarters and get her head around things. It won't hurt to ask her what she thinks Rampage will do next."

"I KNOW what he'll do next," Depth Charge remarked irritably, but Optimus let the comment slide. He opened a comm. channel to Myst. To his surprise, he found it blocked.

Rhinox noted the Maximal's frown. "What's wrong?"

Optimus continued trying to get hold of her. "I don't...I don't know. Her comm. channel seems to be blocked."

In a heartbeat, Depth Charge was at the computers checking for her. A moment later he said: "She's not in her room, or anywhere in base."

Rhinox and Optimus shot each other worried glances. "Check Waspinator's cell. Is he still there?" Optimus asked as he headed over to the manta.

"What does it matter! It's obvious she's bailed! She's gone back to that scum!" Depth Charge erupted, red optics bright with fury.

"Don't make assumptions, Depth Charge," Rhinox intervened as calmly and firmly as possible. "There's a huge storm above us. It could be interfering with the computers. For all we know she could be fast asleep in her quarters and her signature isn't showing."

"Can you do a scan of the perimeter?" Optimus asked.

Depth Charge threw up his hands in frustration and Rhinox pushed past him to do the scan. "You're wasting your time. She's gone!" he snarled.

"I'm getting no sign of her on the perimeter. It's hard to make out beyond that, because the signals are so scrambled by the storm," Rhinox informed them grimly.

"Round up everyone to check the base. There's still a chance it's a glitch in the system," Optimus ordered.

"But everyone else is showing! Why would the system malfunction on just her signature? Face it, she's left us! She's probably gone back to him to fill him in on everything we've done and planned so far!" Depth Charge roared.

While panic broke out inside the Ark at the news of Myst's disappearance, the femmebot in question stood just fifty meters from the base. She leaned against an obelisk, eyes half closed as the wind whipped around her face and body. Attached to her side was a stolen signature blocker - the very one Rattrap had used when infiltrating the Predacon base a few days earlier. She was motionless except for the ruffling of her feathers and beast mode fur. She stared ahead into the darkness and watched as lightning lit the rocky terrain. The boulders and rocks cast long, eerie shadows in the flickers of brightness. The howling wind urged her on.

It would be impossible to fly against the gale, so she would have to reach the forest by foot. She wasn't entirely sure she'd find him there, but it was her best guess as to where he might be on a night like this.

Steeling herself against the wind and the overwhelming fear and uncertainty she felt, Myst started forward, hoping desperately that she had made the right choice.

* * *


End file.
